I Spy with my Little Eye

Cinematography is a language unto itself.  Yet we all understand it on a subconscious level.  And some of us cinephiles understand it on a conscious level – aware (most of the time) of why the cinematographer chose to shoot a scene a particular way.   There are certain images that are symbolic and archetypal that crosses cultures and socioeconomic divides.  If the movie is a recording of a dream or even a dream made real then images are the original language.  The first attempt at cinematography can be traced back to the world's first motion picture film, Roundhay Garden Scene. It was a sequence directed by Louis Le Prince, French inventor and showman, on October 14 1888 in the garden at Oakwood Grange in Roundhay, Leeds, West Yorkshire, England.   (The Ripper murders were happening at this same time.) This groundbreaking event happened seven years before the Lumière Brothers' Sortie de l'usine Lumière à Lyon made the first paid exhibition on December 28, 1895 at Le Grand Café, in Paris, France.  The year is important and relevant to the historic accuracy of the story, A Rogue in Londinium.  It begins in 1888 and Jules Whitby has a prototype of this very same camera.  He is collecting moving images of street life in the East End of London.  He is also being paid by a wealthy doctor to collect images of Richard Rhys and then, later in the story, images of Victoria Thornton in order to show at the World’s Fair.  More about that later.

The cinematographer is the painter, if you will, of the canvas that is the screen.  This professional utilizes light and composition in order to convey the story.  In some cases movement helps to make the story come to life.  Vilmos Zsigmond, one of the most amazing cinematographers in the field---shooting such films as Heaven’s Gate, The Deer Hunter, Deliverance, McCabe & Mrs. Miller and Close Encounters of the Third Kind among others (most recently The Black Dahlia) is an example of how the look of a film can be just as compelling as the story itself.  If you have ever treated yourself to the brilliance of an Ingmar Bergman film you will be aware of Sven Nykvist’s work: Persona, Fanny & Alexander, Cries and Whispers and the Phillip Kaufman film, The Unbearable Lightness of Being.  One of the most common mistakes for beginning filmmakers is to flood the set with light sort of like a soap opera that immediately flattens the plane. Controlling light helps create depth of field and that is what our stereoscopic eyes do for us every second. The use of shadow to sculpt the actor or object in the frame is where the skill lies.  Isolated illumination makes for dramatic statement or tension or plain old fear.  It increases the emotional factor since we humans see things in real light and shadow.  I watch Patrick Sullivan as he moves lights and adjusts the camera preparing for the days scene(s).  Working with an Arri Light kit --- 2/350s and 2 inkies along with a Lowell 450 to highlight parts of the set, he creates pools of light that the actors move in and out of creating an intimate atmosphere. Another important factor in lighting a set is where the light source within the scene is located.  If the source were a simple candle then flooding the set with light would contradict the onscreen source.   Today the scenes are being shot in Richard Rhys’ art studio in the East End of London.  The dominant color on the set is red so the incandescent light creates an amber candlelight type glow.  Oil lamps and sconces are all part of the dressing.

Whit arrives early on set and helps move a few lights to kill time.  Unfortunately he pulled a muscle in his back and is lying prone on the floor trying to catch his breath.  Judy Krause has just come from make-up looking fantastic.  Rebecca Damon is reviewing her script in the kitchen when Whit wanders in bent over looking for aspirin or some kind of relief. 

“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” She says trying to help him.

“What did you do?  I told you not to move stuff.”  Thom adds.

“Can you straighten up?” Ed asks as he prepares a bagel for Whit who turns it down.

“I’m not sure I can simulate ‘making love’ if I’m on top”.  Whit replies.

“Okay, come on.  I have something that will help. Let’s find the director.”  Thom says and he leads Whit through the set and disappears.

“Are we going to lose a day?”  Rebecca asks.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.  Look, I can be on top --- that way he’s on his back through the scene.”  Judy suggests.

“That could work.”  Rebecca concurs.

A plan is in the making.  When I return to the set I find Whit already laid out on the bed in his Victorian pajama bottoms and a dress vest.  The director is talking to Pat as he tweaks lights. I can hear her tell him that she wants the entrance through the carriage doors flooded with light.  Rebecca is dressed in an ivory day dress and tea hat.  She will be in a kind of silhouette when she enters looking innocent and perhaps naïve.  Richard’s lair is in shadow and outfitted in red damask wallpaper bedcovers, rugs, etc.  She will be entering his hell.  They break out the 650 Arri lights and bluish daylight gels to simulate the sun streaming into the adjoining room.

 I look over at Whit and I can tell by his pupils that he found something stronger than aspirin to relieve the pain. 

“Okay, go ahead and mount.” The director says and Judy carefully places herself on top of him. 

“Am I hurting you?”  Judy asks concerned.

“Nothing can hurt me now so go to town.”  He replies.

In a prior scene Catherine refuses to pay Richard for the portrait until it is finished.  She further withholds the purse until he ‘performs’.  Backed into a corner and desperate to get the cash, he plays her game.  Unbeknownst to him, though, she had found a note he had written to Victoria weeks ago but never sent.  At the top of the scene Catherine is trying to get Richard aroused one more time before ordering up some food and drink checking the time for her calculated, malignant adventure.  At that moment Victoria walks in holding the unsent note.  It is a Dangerous Liaison kind of scene.  The look on Victoria’s face is of utter betrayal and astonishment.  Richard, undone, can provide no explanation that would excuse or even remotely redeem him.  In a moment she is gone but not before handing over the note.  Enraged, Richard realizes that Catherine set them both up claiming she didn’t want her cousin to get hurt.  Richard begins to strangle and manhandle Catherine.  Shouting and threatening blows I am impressed with Whit as he rallies to the challenge.  If my back were out I’d have to call it a day but he is agile and strong and a top-notch professional recreating the scene take after take.  There is a brief recess as the grips set up the dolly and Pat  re-sets the camera and lights.  Whit is on his belly on the floor.  Judy is massaging his lower back trying to reduce the tension.  Rebecca is providing support.  “Whit, I think the AD said this is the last set-up for you so if you can just hang in there a little while.”  She goes and fetches some water and Motrin.  

“The Dolly shot is the top of the scene so all you have to do is just lay there…and say your lines, of course.”  The director explains.  Judy is in a red corset and bloomers drinking champagne in the pool of light on the bed.  She is stunning!  Richard is underneath, tired and over the whole game.  When the scene is done Whit is shot out and Thom graciously gets him home.  The next scene scheduled for the today takes place a day or two later.  Catherine is in her dressing room preparing for her afternoon performance when Victoria confronts her about her diabolical scheme.  Victoria can take comfort in the fact that Catherine has completely lost Richard.  In that single pivotal, silent moment Judy’s performance lets us know that Catherine was very much in love with him and that she is the architect of her own undoing.  Bravo!  It is one of those scenes that you want to rewind and watch again.  Subtle and profound.  And though she is a kind of villain she has a living, breathing heart that can break flooding her with humanity and reminding us all how we fall short of the ideal.